


Stop Talking and Start Shooting

by Opalgirl



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Gen, Gen Fic, One Shot, forced its way out of my keyboard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-20
Updated: 2011-04-20
Packaged: 2017-10-18 10:17:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opalgirl/pseuds/Opalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>fem!Shep is doing some target practice--because after two years of being dead, she's out of practice. Zaeed is really not impressed. Gen, one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stop Talking and Start Shooting

**Author's Note:**

> This sort of... forced its way out the other day. I don't know where it came from or why, but here it is.

Shepard lowered the rifle—an older model, not one of the new shiny toys Cerberus had provided—and removed the ear protection, studying the holographic target. Then she turned, raising an eyebrow at the sight of him. “See something you like, Massani?”

Zaeed snorted. “Girlie, I was puttin’ bullets between someone’s eyes before you were born. No.” She was an adequate shot, capable of getting the job done, but…. “And, for Christ’s sake, who taught you to shoot? If _you’re_ the best the Alliance is turnin’ out, it’s all gone to hell.” If he praised her, she’d get as big a head as that ornery son of a bitch in the cockpit.

She didn’t flinch or protest. Not that she would; military background, made ‘em calm and _used_ to being insulted and yelled at. She’d rifle-butted krogan, put herself in Vakarian’s sights, and shouted _him_ down, all without a twitch. Fucking hell, half the time she left her helmet in the shuttle. Even if she was a crap shot, Shepard had guts.

“I was dead for two years. The muscle memory’s off,” she admitted. “I practice.”

“Bullshit. You’re doing it goddamned wrong.”

Shepard just snorted as she ejected the clip and loaded another. “Yeah?”

“That rifle is probably as old as your daddy, for one. You wouldn’t know how to handle it. Get yourself one of those stupid shiny things the boss bought.”

She tightened her hand possessively on the stock and shook her head. “This model was Alliance standard-issue for decades. I went to every arms dealer on the Citadel looking for one. The ‘stupid shiny things’ can stay in the gun rack. I don’t like them.”

He grinned. Maybe she _did_ know her guns after all. “ _Thought_ you were more than just a pretty face, Shepard. They’ve got no kick, those things.”

“Throws off the shot. Gimme one of these any day.”

“Right. Go on, line up another one. See if we can’t whip you back into shape.”

“You’re offering to—”

“Shepard, _stop_ talking and start shooting.”


End file.
